


Painting Stars in Our Hearts

by BabySpaniel



Category: The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Glitter, Hearteyes, M/M, Misfit Court, Paint Night, Painting, Pre-hearteyes but there are soft feels, Sun Estate, soft, whiteknight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabySpaniel/pseuds/BabySpaniel
Summary: The Misfit Court has a Solstice paint night, and perhaps discovers that they are a family along the way.
Relationships: Rune Saint John/Addam Saint Nicholas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Painting Stars in Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired both by a paint night my family did and a conversation with Springbird on the Discord. All credit for suggesting Tower impersonations goes to her. 
> 
> Many thanks to Marie.Eloise for listening to me cry about how the beginning doesn’t flow, and then trying to help me fix it. Any remaining abruptness is my fault, but I promise after the first page divide, it gets much smoother (and really soft). 
> 
> There is one teensy tiny mention of the assumed abuse in Max’s past. If you would like to avoid this, skip from where Corbie shouts “Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!” to “Now we’re even.”

“We’re home,” Anna’s voice rang out from the front hall of Sun Estate. 

Brand, Rune, and Addam had been in the kitchen finishing some muffins, which really meant that Addam was cooking while Brand sharpened their already-sharp cooking knives and Rune admired them both. Anna’s call had all three dropping their tasks and rushing towards the noise. 

They were greeted by Anna, Max, Quinn, and Layne standing in the foyer, carrying an assortment of backpacks and suitcases, framed by the winter-grey light coming through the still open door. Quinn had a suspiciously high stack of white rectangles in his arms. All were red cheeked from the cold and dripping water onto the floor from the snowflakes melting off their shoulders and heads. Rune could not stop the broad smile spreading across his face looking at the gaggle of children they had claimed as their own.

“Shut the door,” Brand groused from Rune’s left, which was his version of “hello.” 

Layne smiled at him while nudging the door shut with their foot. “We missed you too,” they said softly.

Before anyone else could utter a greeting, a blur sped down the stairs and knocked straight into Anna’s knees. Max reached out to steady her before she fell over.

“You’re home! You’re home! You’re home!” the blur who was revealed as Corbie shouted, hugging his sister’s legs while jumping up and down. 

Corinne, coming down the stairs at a slower pace, smiled at the children and said, “Welcome back.” 

“Come, come,” Addam insisted drawing everyone’s attention away from the stairs as he reached to take the duffle off of Max’s shoulder. “Give us your bags and go get warm in the kitchen. Queenie made a fresh batch of cookies to welcome you back for the holidays.”

Brand could count the number of eyes that turned round at the offer of Queenie’s cookies and mentally started crafting their holiday training regimen as he reached for Layne and Quinn’s suitcases simultaneously. He would never disallow Queenie’s cookies, especially not at the Solstice, but that did not mean that they had to become _lazy._ Addam’s distressed cry derailed his planning as every head in the room whipped to face the blond.

“What are _these_?” Addam implored, his voice echoing along the rafters. 

He and Quinn were currently locked in a battle of wills over the white rectangles in Quinn’s hands. Addam was desperately trying to take possession of them while Quinn had dug his heels into the granite floor and was leaning backwards with all his weight in an attempt to keep them from Addam’s grasp.

“Art! A family holiday paint night,” Quinn said as brightly as he could while fighting his much taller brother. “Then we can hang them up in the Portrait Gallery because it is so…dreadfully…empty.” 

The last three words were punctuated with one tug each until on the third, Addam relented to cup his face in his hands. 

“No, no, no, no,” he bemoaned, shaking his head slightly. “More _clutter_.”

Rune scooted over to Addam’s side, wrapping a comforting arm around his waist and tilting his head to count the paintings.

“You have one too many,” Rune noted.

“He doesn’t. You’ll see,” Max said with a shrug, turning to grab Anna’s hand and dragging her towards the kitchen.

The kids filed out quickly, followed by Corinne, leaving Addam, Brand, and Rune in the foyer with a pile of bags and a long flight of stairs ahead of them, bewildered.

Rune gave a little squeeze with the arm still around Addam’s waist and smiled slightly at them both, “I guess this is what it is like to have kids.”

Brand shook his head fondly and bent down to pick up the abandoned backpacks. “Sure, we’re reduced to fucking bellboys.” 

Rune gently pulled the paintings from Addams arms where Quinn had deposited them in exchange for the promise of Queenie’s cookies. “I’ll take care of these. We can’t destroy all of their fun.”

***

Rune listened to the sound of the logs popping in the fireplace and cuddled deeper into Addam’s side on their couch. Three days after the kids had come home from Magnus Academy, they were all sprawled around the living room in puffy sweaters sipping hot chocolate. Earlier in the day, Rune had dragged his court into a snowball fight that Brand inevitably turned into a tactical exercise. Everyone was still defrosting as Corbie entertained them from his perch in Brand’s lap.

“And then Brady said that I couldn’t possibly own a dinosaur because they were extin…extinted,” Corbie fumbled, swiveling to look at Brand for help.

“Extinct,” Brand prompted softly, causing Corbie to nod enthusiastically.

“Extinct,” he crowed, turning back to his audience and throwing up his hands in emphasis. “He didn’t believe me! But Brand went out in the snow that night and took a picture and then we showed it to Brady the next day, oh and Trixie too because she was there, and Brady said he had never seen something so cool. Brady’s mom said that he could come over to meet Flynn and now we are best friends.” Corbie finished with a little nod because of course seeing someone’s pet dinosaur was the impetus of all best friendships. 

Quinn nudged at Max’s calf with a foot covered in a cat-patterned sock that Rune could swear he had bought for Max, and said, “Would you have been my friend faster if I had a dinosaur to show you too?”

Max laughed, pulling the Santa hat off Quinn’s head and resettling it on his own. “You’re the psychic; you tell me.”

Quinn scrunched up his face in an overly dramatic effort and after a moment confirmed, “Nope, that was the future where we were enemies. And I still haven’t forgiven you for rubbing the ferret in my hair.” 

Anna and Corinne stared at the group in confusion as a chorus of laughter rang out. They were still laughing when a knock sounded at the front door. 

Rune’s eyes immediately found Brand’s, a single look confirming that no visitors were expected. Following years of training, Brand deposited Corbie next to him and was halfway out of his seat checking his pockets for weapons when Quinn said brightly, “Painting time!” 

Brand froze. They all froze.

“Painting?” Rune asked tentatively.

“Not three days ago, Quinn walked through your door with a stack of canvases and you’ve already forgotten,” Anna sniffed, sticking her nose in the air. “I should be ashamed to be your heir.”

“Oh the…oh, I mean…you were serious about us painting those?” Rune fumbled, his expression getting paler by the second.

“Of course he was,” Max confirmed. “When have we ever been able to avoid one of Quinn’s adventures? Besides, he says they turn out well enough that you keep them in the Portrait Gallery for years.” 

“But paint, with my hands,” Rune said faintly, unconsciously clutching at Addam’s hand. “I can’t paint! I can’t do art of any kind. There’s a reason we’re mercenaries.” Rune frantically waved his free hand between Brand and himself, a wild look in his eyes.

“Relax,” Brand ordered, stepping past him to go answer the door. “If yours is bad enough, we can hide it in the fucking laundry room. A bad painting might actually improve the fucking aesthetic in there.” 

Brand’s voice echoed down the hall as he walked away, leaving Rune with eight sets of eyes staring at him. 

“Come now, Hero,” Addam said gently, “surely you can’t be that bad at painting.”

Anna snickered, pulling smiling Max and Quinn to their feet. “Quinn says he is,” she called over her shoulder as the three left the room.

Addam felt Rune go boneless next to him as Rune buried his face in his hands.

“Quinn prophesized about how bad I am!” he moaned. “I need a drink.”

“Me too,” Brand said, reentering the room accompanied by a second set of footsteps. “Look who Quinn dragged in.”

“Come now, muscle man,” said a cheery voice, “I’ll have you know my painting skills are excellent.”

Rune straightened next to Addam and greeted, “Ciaran.” 

***

“Oh good,” Quinn said to Max and Anna as they walked towards the stairs to get the paintings from his room. “Rune chose the future where he doesn’t completely freak out about Ciaran joining us.”

“Isn’t that the one where his painting was also the worst?” Anna asked, letting Max cut in front of her before following him up the staircase.

“Well, yes,” Quinn admitted from behind them, slightly out of breath, “but honestly they were never very good in any future.”

They all snorted at this and continued up the rest of the way in silence in an attempt to maintain the pretense that no one was out of breath from studiously ignoring Brand’s suggested workouts while at school. When they reached the top of the stairs, Max peeled off to the left as Anna and Quinn started to the right. 

“Where are you going?” Anna asked, stopping. “Quinn’s room is this way.” 

Max turned back to them slightly, two fingers dragging the front of his sweater away from his chest. “Quinn’s sweater,” he explained. “I don’t want to ruin it with the paint; it’s designer. I’ll grab one of mine from the thrift shop.”

“Don’t,” Quinn said softly, stepping around Anna to be closer to Max. “I like it with the paint. It reminds me of you when I am feeling sad.”

Max studied Quinn for a long moment and then asked just as softly, “You really won’t mind? This one had to cost over $100.”

“$300, and I think your additions make it priceless,” Quinn insisted. 

“Okay,” Max said, a smile blooming across his face. “Onto Lord Saint Nicholas’ abode; our canvases await.” 

If Anna noted the extra jaunt in Max step as he walked past her to Quinn’s door, she was wise enough not to mention it.

***

When Rune had allowed Addam to gift Sun Estate with a dining table that could fit eighteen people, he had assumed it would be used once or twice a year for formal dinners with the other Arcana. Images of fine silk tablecloths and china dishes, both of which Sun Estate did not currently possess, had filled his head, accompanied by the phantom feeling of a formal suit chocking his neck as he tried to hold a civilized conversation. 

Instead, the hulking, mahogany monstrosity was currently covered in newspapers and surrounded by seven loud, casual, sweater-clad bodies. Ciaran’s sweater was somehow both shiny and matte and hurt Rune’s eyes too look at too long. Unfortunately, Rune kept looking because Ciaran kept _talking_ and his eyes were starting to water. No way could blurry eyes improve his already meagre painting skills.

“Relax, Hero,” Addam whispered into his ear as Rune’s fingers absently folded the newspaper in front of them into an ever shrinking square. “You’re forgetting to breathe again.”

“How big are these canvases?” Rune implored, turning to meet Addam’s eyes. “I can’t remember and it was only three days ago that I last saw them! Brand is going to kill me; I’m forgetting important details like an amateur. What if the next time we’re abducted, the only way we can escape is if we paint a code to signal our location for rescue? What if I have to paint a picture to bring a golem to life to save us? We’re all doomed!”

“You’re spiraling, Hero,” Addam comforted, rubbing his hands along Rune’s arms, the slight chill from the sigil hand giving Rune goosebumps. “It’s a fun, family paint night. That’s all.”

“Fucking drink this,” Brand cut in, plopping a tumbler filled with brown liquid in front of Rune. “I made one for you too, pretty boy, and you, wizard man.” 

Brand pulled two more drinks off the tray he had carried in from the kitchen and placed them in front of Addam and Ciaran before placing the last one at his empty seat.

“Old Fashioneds,” he explained, “and most definitely fucking not for the children. Wine coming up for the ladies, and some eggnog for the tykes. By the River, Rune, you’d think that the Tower never taught you to paint.”

With a nod towards Queenie and Corinne, he stomped back towards the kitchen, empty tray in hand.

“Did he now?” Ciaran asked curiously. “Lots of power in painting.” 

Rune turned to Ciaran, then cast a frantic glance around the table before focusing back on the principality.

“He didn’t. I don’t know how to paint. You don’t think I’ll accidentally curse us or bring a monster to life from my painting, do you?” Rune asked, crumpling the square of newspaper he’d created.

“While it’s possible,” Ciaran said, swirling his Old Fashioned with one delicate hand, “it is highly unlikely. Magic rarely volunteers itself for use, and when it does, it generally prefers a…skilled master.”

Rune slumped against his chair in relief. “One less thing I have to worry about tonight.” 

“Rune, sweetie?” Queenie chimed in, “You don’t have anything to worry about? You know we will all love your painting no matter what it looks like, because you made it?”

“Exactly,” Addam agreed, patting Rune on the back.

Rune was saved from responding by Max, Quinn, and Anna coming into the room, the canvases divided among them. Quinn was practically vibrating from excitement as the three laid them out along the far end of the table.

Quinn started to explain. “Okay, so I saw these in an American TV commercial and just knew that we had to paint them! Each canvas has a pre-printed holiday scene, Christmas because they’re American,” he waved his hand at this, as if the American obsession with Christmas was unavoidable, “and they have the brushes, paint, and a paint mixing guide all included. It’s so easy! I ordered the design that I knew each of you would like best, but Addam says that I shouldn’t just hand people their choice before asking them first, so we decided to lay each one out and let you pick. I think it’s inconvenient to make you all stand up when I already _know_ what you want–” 

“Quinn,” Addam warned. 

Quinn shot him an unreadable look, then blew out a breath and clapped his hands together. “So, please, come pick you poison! But I promise, we almost never ends up poisoned from tonight. It really only happens when we let Max try to play bartender–”

This time, Quinn was cut off by Max elbowing him in the side. Quinn shot Max a hurt look, but was saved from another interruption by Layne standing up from their chair. 

“I’ll go get some water bowls for us to wash the brushes in and see if Brand needs any help with the last of the drinks,” they said. “I would be honored if you picked a canvas for me, Quinn.”

Quinn’s wounded expression brightened considerably at this, which is no doubt what Layne had intended, and he bounced over to the canvases and grabbed one right away. Heading towards Layne’s abandoned seat with it, he instructed, “Now the rest of you, go pick yours too!” 

Chairs scraped away from the table as the group got up to grab a canvas. There was an awkward shuffle as everyone tried to let the others pick before them. Max could swear he heard Quinn mutter under his breath, _“See, this is what it’s always better when I just give everyone what they want,”_ but before he could confirm, Ciaran stepped up to the table.

“For the River’s sake, it’s like watching ducklings getting their first glance of spring,” he huffed. “I will pick first if you insist.” 

Grabbing a canvas seemingly at random, Ciaran flounced back to his chair with it. Once settled, he looked back up at the group who had yet to move and released a long-suffering sigh.

“Must I do everything,” he bemoaned to an unknown audience, and then began to instruct, “Addam, dear, you pick next.” 

“Oh, well, I don’t really care though. I am sure someone else would like to choose first,” Addam said, looking like a deer in headlights.

When no one made any move towards the canvases – and really, Ciaran was starting to think that maybe Quinn’s speech about poison had made them all gun shy – Addam scooched forward and peered at the canvases. Then his face broke into a smile.

“Rune, darling, look here,” he said, reaching behind him to grab Rune’s arm and gently pull a resisting Rune to the table. “These two are couples! Would you like to paint the gingerbread pair or the penguin pair?” 

Rune refused to look at the canvases for a second until Addam reached a big, gentle hand to the back of his head and directed his attention. Rune studied where Addam was pointing and blanched.

“They’re so detailed! Quinn didn’t say they were detailed!” he accused, turning to find the offending party behind him. 

Quinn for his part looked a little chagrined as he defended, “Every time you saw the canvases before tonight, you refused to participate! It was for your own good; you always have a good time, even when we accidentally set the table on fire.”

Rune considered this and privately agreed that setting this ridiculous table on fire would indeed be a fun time. Addam mistook his smile as finally accepting that paint night could be enjoyable and grabbed the two paintings for them. 

“Come, we can choose while the others get theirs,” he said, leading the way back to their seats. 

Rune trailed after him, proclaiming, “I want the penguins. They have an easier background.” 

After Addam broke the ice, the others tricked towards the paintings and picked theirs more quickly until only two were left. Quinn looked imploringly at Addam.

“I already know which one Brand wants and he always takes so long with the drinks. Can’t I please just give it to him?” he pleaded. Addam looked like he was about to say no, so Quinn continued, “It’s a deer in the woods or a cat playing with yarn balls! You can’t tell me that you also wouldn’t know exactly which one of those he would want, seer ability or no.” 

Rune started laughing helplessly before Addam could reply. “Please, give him the cat,” he choked out.

Quinn grabbed both canvases and started walking towards Brand’s seat. “When I do that, it turns out so good that he and Max use it as fodder to get a cat. But then we find out Anna is allergic and have to get rid of the cat, and I refuse to introduce that sadness to our Solstice party. So, Addam’s permission or no, Brand gets the stag.”

Quinn punctuated this by laying the canvas solidly at Brand’s place before going to sit at his own between Layne and Max, shooting Addam a challenging look. Rune was once again reminded that Quinn might not be as guileless as he appeared. 

“Interesting,” Ciaran said to no one in particular as Brand and Layne rejoined them.

This time, Brand was carrying two trays laden with two wineglasses, five eggnogs, and a bowl of popcorn. Layne’s tray, along with the promised water, also boasted snacks.

“Devil Dogs!” Rune and Corbie shouted at the same time. 

Rune had climbed halfway across the table towards Layne’s tray before Brand managed to set down one of his trays. Grabbing the waistband of Rune’s jeans and hauling him back into his seat, Brand swore, “Are you fucking five? Wait your fucking turn.”

Brand held out a hand towards Layne. Apparently understanding some unspoken message, Layne threw a Devil Dog into his hand, which Brand caught flawlessly while refusing to take his eyes off Rune.

“Showoff,” Rune muttered under his breath.

“This,” Brand emphasized by waiving the treat around, “is yours once you paint at least a fucking third of your picture. I have it on good authority from our prophet that bribing you is the only way you actually fucking finish the canvas.”

“I’ll show you finishing,” Rune griped under his breath as he leaped from his seat in an attempt to rip the Devil Dog from his Companion’s hand. Brand easily caught Rune’s shoulder and pushed him back down while holding the treat above his head. 

“Nope, not going to fucking work. Try that again and you’ll get no fucking Devil Dogs. Are we clear?”

Rune judged the distance between him and the Devil Dog and, deeming rescue a lost cause, sullenly agreed to Brand’s terms. Addam gave him a comforting pat on the arm before turning to admire the pre-printed gingerbread people on his canvas, one of which was holding a plate of cookies while the other gasped in surprise. 

“Do you want to be the cookie bringer or receiver?” he asked. Upon getting no response from a pouting Rune, he continued, “I’ll make you the receiver. It reminds me of our early courting days.”

“Yea, Brand confiscated all the treats you tried to give him then too,” Max snickered from across the table. 

“You, watch it,” Brand said, pointing at Max. “Treats are for those who behave. What is it that Santa says? Naughty or nice?”

“And if you’re naughty, you get no presents! Just coal!” Corbie confirmed. 

“Exactly. I will personally stuff the solstice presents of anyone else complaining tonight full of coal.” Rounding on Rune, he continued, “That goes for you too, Lord Sun.” 

Rune grumbled under his breath at this. After a light kick to his shin from Addam under the table, he dutifully peeled the cellophane wrapper from his canvas and started mixing a color for the background. His court followed suit. It was silent for a few minutes outside of the drag of paintbrushes on canvas and the clink of a glass being set down as Max gulped his eggnog.

Then, Brand prompted, “Layne, will you DJ?”

Layne smiled brightly and replied, “I would be delighted.”

They got up and went to fiddle with the sound system that had been installed in the renovation – another gift from Addam because “what was a formal banquet without some classical Atlantean music” – and the soft tones of Solstice carols enveloped the room. The table quieted as everyone concentrated on putting their art skills to use. Intermittently, Max, Anna, Quinn, and Layne chattered happily about their classes at Magnus; Corinne, Ciaran, and Queenie began an excited discussion about practical fashion. 

Rune for his part sat in miserable silence interspersed with the occasional disparaging sigh. Addam looked over Rune’s hunched shoulders to Brand. 

“Is he always like this when he concentrates?” Addam asked.

“You should have seen him at Magnus. He sighed so much it was like he was trying to be a fucking heroine in a YA novel letting out every single fucking breath he didn’t know he was holding,” Brand complained.

“I do not understand that reference,” Addam admitted.

“Good,” Rune grumbled without looking up from his painting. “That means there’s only one person at this table I have to kill.”

“Thin ice,” Brand warned.

“I think we could all use another drink,” Ciaran interrupted pointedly from across the table. “If you’ll excuse me ladies. I promise more wine in exchange for abandoning our conversation.”

He gracefully extracted himself from his seat between Corinne and Queenie and grabbed the four tumblers before walking into the kitchen. The Old Fashioneds he brought back were definitely both stronger and more sparkly than those Brand supplied. 

Before settling into his seat, he whipped two wine bottles from the pockets on his sweater – _since when did that thing have pockets,_ Rune wondered – and set them down with a flourish in front of Corinne and Queenie.

“You are a prince among men,” a slightly red-cheeked Corinne complimented, pouring a generous serving into her glass.

“Just a principality, my dear,” Ciaran corrected. 

“I’ll toast to that?” Queenie said, and three clinked glasses before turning back to their artistry.

“Should we be worried about this fast-forming triumvirate?” Brand whispered to Rune across the table.

Rune considered the three for a second and concluded, “The only danger they pose is to the liquor cabinet. But it is a not inconsiderable danger.”

Addam, who had already downed half his second Old Fashioned, leaned over to pat Rune’s arm. Slurring slightly, he said, “If Ciaran will make us drinks at the same time, the liquor cabinet is in good hands.”

Rune gave him a dopey smile. Brand pointedly started chugging his drink.

Somewhere around emptying the first bottle of wine, Queenie got the hiccups. For a woman who was so quiet in every other aspect of her life, the hiccups were shockingly loud. Max jumped in his seat at the first one, and Quinn could not stop chuckling as they continued.

“Stop it,” Brand said, flicking paint from his brush onto Quinn from across the table. “That’s fucking rude.” 

“Did you just…throw paint at me?” Quinn asked in disbelief.

Brand responded by grabbing a bigger brush, thrusting it into the largest pile of paint on his pallet, and flinging it again. 

Quinn gasped as the paint splattered over his shirt, and then grabbed his brush and attempted to flick paint back at Brand. Not being an expert marksman, his paint landed two drops on Brand and a majority on Anna to his left. 

“You didn’t,” Anna said in a dangerous tone.

Without breaking eye contact with Quinn, Anna squeezed half a tube of paint onto her pallet. Reaching for her biggest brush, she scooped up a majority of the paint and threw it across the table. Both Max and Quinn were caught in the onslaught and Max looked down in horror. 

“You knew this was Quinn’s sweater!” he cried. In retaliation, he stabbed his brush into the paint on his pallet and flung it back at her. This time, it hit Corbie and Anna. 

As soon as Corbie decided that this was a brand new game, every single person at the table was hit with flying paint. Because some of the participants were mature adults, they waited until the second time they were assaulted before jumping into the fray. Rune could not have been more thrilled at this development, jumping on the excuse to stop smearing paint around his trash pile of a painting. Pretty soon, every single person at the table was absolutely covered in paint.

Then, a big glob flew into Corinne’s wine glass.

“Not my drink,” she cried. “Party foul!” 

The table erupted into laughter and mercifully the paint stopped flying. Brand looked at his canvas.

“Alright, which one of you covered my stag in a pile of pink paint?” he asked.

Addam looked over at the painting in mild interest and then did a double take. On the canvas was a nearly realistic looking deer surrounded by the aurora borealis and stained by a rather large blob of pink paint.

“Brandon, that is incredible,” he said in awe.

“Oh good, you’re a fan of modern art with chaotic fucking smears,” Brand replied.

“No, the painting under the mark. You are very, very talented,” Addam complimented.

Brand coughed. “Companion training, steady hands and all that. But as Lord Tower always reminded me, ‘A human will never master the intricacy of form as the eyes of an Arcana will, Brandon.’”

“He doesn’t sound like that,” Rune groused from next to him. “It’s more like, ‘Brandon, your talent at painting will never come close to your talent on the field of combat.’”

“Sure, like he ever once gave me a compliment. Those were reserved for his golden boy,” Brand scoffed.

“He’s always been very supportive of me. I imagine this would be more like,” Addam cleared his throat and deepened his voice before continuing, “’Brandon, Rune, my wards. You have learned so much from me. It may not match my years of experience, but you have retained much for your age.’”

It was Anna’s turn to scoff. “You think that creepy man would ever care about their learning for the sake of learning? I’ve met him twice and can tell you that he only cares about his own gain. He would definitely be like, ‘Brandon, Rune, please, leave the painting for us wealthy learned. I have a much more important mission for you to risk you lives on while I sit here safe in my tower.’ There’s a reason his emblem is an impenetrable fortress.”

“Anna has a point?” Queenie chimed in. “He really does sound like, ‘I will spread my wealth and lend my sigils for the good of Arcana, so long as you do not ask me to commit more than I would willingly give.’”

“I didn’t realize you had ever met him,” Rune told her.

“You know how it is,” Queenie said with a shrug. “You hang around Arcana houses long enough, you end up meeting most of their leaders?”

“He only paints when he’s content about a job well done,” Quinn chimed in. “So, really, if he were going to give advice about painting to Brand and Rune, it would be more like, ‘Now that you’ve saved New Atlantis again, I suggest investing in sapphires and citrine for your inks. Imbue your court with wisdom and prosperity. The future will require both of you.’”

Rune and Addam exchanged a look that said, _“Is this a prophecy or the musings of a teenage boy? If the former, why aren’t the drugs working?”_

A crash from next to Anna drew their attention away from each other.

“Oops,” Corbie said as water from the knocked over dish next to him rushed towards Max and Quinn’s paintings. 

Quinn grabbed his painting off the table in time, but a wave of brownish water rushed over the top corner of Max’s artwork, covering the far edge of the fireplace he’d painted. 

“Sorry!” Corbie said, trying to scoop the water onto the table into his hands.

“I’ve got it,” Anna said, repositioning the water cup upright. She concentrated on the spill for a second and then waved her hand. Like a conductor, the water followed her hand into the glass and swirled once before settling.

“Interesting,” Ciaran said from the far end of the table, a glitter in his eye.

Rune shot him a warning look. “Not a word. You are here as a privileged guest; I would hate to think of you becoming an enemy of Sun Court.”

“Not to worry, Lord Sun. You and I know how to keep secrets.” 

“Okay, I think these fluffs are finished,” Max declared some time later, running his eyes over the still slightly damp cat in a stocking and dog in his painting one last time.

“Not so fast,” Ciaran said, digging around in the huge bag he had brought over with him. “What’s a painting without a little glitter?”

Before he had even finished pulling five different containers of glitter out of his bag, Corbie jumped out of his seat and was running around the entire table in a circle in a victory lap.

“Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!” 

Brand glared at Ciaran. “You did not seriously bring glitter into our fucking house. Do you know how hard that stuff is to clean up?”

“We have magic, dearie. I’m sure Rune can whip up a spell to clean it all up lickety-split,” Ciaran placated as he started tossing the bottles of glitter to recipients around the table.

Hands caught the glitter bottles and chaos ruled the next seven minutes. The children all started shouting to pass different colors as the others were done with them. Rune watched with exponentially increasing anxiety as each bottle was precariously tossed between deft hands more times than he could count, the lids appearing to get looser and looser each time they were passed around.

As was to be expected, on its twelfth toss, the lid of the silver glitter failed and the entire bottle spilled all over the middle of the table. 

Immediately the table fell silent as everyone stared at the shiny mountain.

Max frantically looked at Brand and even though he definitely had not been the one to throw the glitter, immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it all up. Please don’t be mad.” 

Brand felt his heart sink in his chest. Max still had not opened up to Rune and him about what he had survived at the Lovers Court, but there were little slips like this that added up to irrefutable evidence of his abuse. If Brand ever met Max’s uncle, he was going to kill him slowly and painfully, and then force Rune to bring him back to life just to kill the monster again.

“I’m not mad,” Brand said nonchalantly, trying to emphasize the non-issue that this was. “This table needed a centerpiece anyway. Besides, mahogany is notoriously easy to clean.” 

“That is mahogany!” Anna interjected, quoting a popular movie in an attempt to break the tension.

The table laughed, but Quinn peeked at Max next to him. He was still two shades too pale, which would not do. Quinn reached for the silver in the middle of the table and scooped up a handful.

“It’s easier to grab this way. My painting needed a lot more pizazz than I could get out of the tiny holes in the glitter shaker anyway,” he said, dumping the entire handful in the middle of his painting.

He glanced at Max, who still looked shell-shocked. Quinn’s heart panged again for the friend that he loved so dearly and the past that he endured. Reaching back into the pile, Quinn grabbed an even bigger handful and promptly dumped it into Max’s hair. 

Max whipped around to face him, scattering glitter all over the floor in the process. “Hey!” he protested. “What was that for?”

“It’s an improvement,” Quinn said glibly. “It compliments your shiny hair.” 

Max huffed as he reached across the table to dig two hands into the pile and immediately dumped it on Quinn’s head in retribution.

“Now we’re even,” he said with a smirk, sitting back in his chair.

Quinn spluttered around the glitter falling into his mouth and reached down to the pile that was still sitting on top of his canvas. Grabbing some glitter, he flung it directly into Max’s face.

By now, the entire table was staring at the two. Max, using his longer arms to his advantage, reached back into the pile in the middle of the table without ever looking away from Quinn. Two massive handfuls flew into Quinn’s face in rapid succession. 

Quinn coughed around the glitter in his throat and held up his hands. “I surrender! You win!” 

Max smiled and ruffled a hand through Quinn’s hair. “For the record, it suits your shiny hair too.”

Layne cleared their throat and looked away from the two. Corrine, seeing the movement from the corner of her eye, reached into the pile and gathered a bit of the glitter on her finger.

“Come here, Queenie,” she said. “This is exactly what we needed to match our dear principality’s shine.” 

Queenie leaned obligingly across Ciaran to let Corinne swipe the glitter across both eyelids. Then, standing up slightly to reach, she reached into the pile herself. Corinne held perfectly still as Queenie decorated her eyes too before leaning back to smile. 

“We look dashing,” Corinne declared. 

“A toast to that,” Ciaran declared, holding up his glass. 

Three glasses clinked and then Queenie decided, “Oh no, you don’t get off that easily? We have to decorate you too?”

In tandem, a slightly-tipsy Corinne and Queenie descended on Ciaran to swipe curving glitter designs across his cheekbones. 

“There,” Queenie said with a satisfied nod. “A glittery trio of fallen gods?”

A little after midnight, Layne declared their painting done. 

“Oh thank the River,” Rune exclaimed. “I can’t take any more of this. Mine is done too.”

Addam and Brand both turned in their seats to examine Rune’s painting between them. Brand counted fourteen colors smeared around the canvas in the vague approximation of two to three blobs surrounded by a heart and perhaps a night sky, but that might have just been a continuation of the blobs. Addam could barely hold back his laughter and Rune whipped around to glare at him. 

“I’m sorry, Hero,” he chuckled. “I would call you any day of the week to kill a monster or solve a mystery for me, but please remind me to never ask you for any art.”

Rune slumped back in seat, crossing his arms. “I told you I was bad.” 

“You’re just so good at _everything,_ it was hard to picture you actually being bad at something,” Addam explained. “I still think the painting is cute, a Rune Original.”

“Yea, because he couldn’t paint within the lines,” Brand scoffed into his Old Fashioned. 

Anna, who had been leaning over Brand’s painting to look at Rune’s, let out an aborted snort. Rune turned to glare at her.

“Hey,” she backed up to her seat with her hands held up, “I’m not saying anything. All I know is that if heir training involves art, as the Sun Throne heir, I am screwed.”

Rune pointed an accusing finger at her. “That right there, that statement, is the exact opposite of not saying anything.”

Anna shrugged and mimed zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key.

“I finished too, and if Corbie puts any more paint on his canvas, it will rip,” Max broke in, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I think we should all take a picture. If that’s alright?”

“A picture is a great idea. We can’t let our glitter fashion be forgotten in the annals of history,” Corinne agreed. “Is everyone else ready?” 

An assorted smattering of nods lead to chairs being pushed back and everyone bringing their paintings to the far end of the table. 

While everyone was getting arranged, Queenie hung off to the side. “I can take the photo?” she offered.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Brand said, ushering her into the group. “Despite Rune’s technological inability, I actually know how to use a fucking phone. We can use the camera timer feature to get everyone in the picture.” 

“I really don’t mind?” Queenie tried to protest, but Brand was already balancing his phone between the arms of two chairs to get everyone in the frame.

“Places everyone! Ten fucking seconds,” he called, grabbing his painting and jogging to stand behind Queenie and Rune.

The camera’s flash blinded everyone in the room, taking them all by surprise.

“Was that necessary?” Rune complained as Quinn demanded, “One more!” 

Brand went back to the table and fiddled with his phone for a bit. “No fucking flash this time, I promise. Ten seconds!”

True to his word, this time the phone only let out a shutter noise and not a solar flare. After it was done, the group started moving in unison over to the phone to look at it. 

“A word, Lord Sun,” Ciaran requested, already pulling Rune into a corner of the dining room.

Rune looked back at the group cooing over the picture and then to Ciaran. “Yes, Magician?”

“I’ll thank you not to call me that,” Ciaran said testily. “I merely wanted to let you know that the Portrait Gallery is reserved for your family’s photos. I visited it many times during the late Lord Sun’s reign. Mine you can hang in the laundry room. Unlike you, I did imbue mine with some magic, and you might find it lends a healing hand to the cracked tiles there.”

Rune’s forehead crinkled in confusion, “You want to help us with the laundry room? Hold on, how do you even know the laundry room is still a mess?”

“Not the time for questions, chickadee,” Ciaran replied breezily. “It’s the holidays, and the traditional response to a gift is ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” Rune echoed haltingly, more a question than a statement. 

“You’re welcome,” Ciaran responded, turning away to rejoin the others at the table, leaving a confused Rune in his wake. 

***

The next morning, Rune was woken by two sharp jabs to his side. He frowned into his pillow. This was not how Addam normally woke him.

“Up and at ‘em,” Brand’s voice came from above him. “I brought fucking coffee.”

“I smell no coffee. You lie,” Rune mumbled, burying his face deeper into his pillow.

There was a rustle, a small slosh, and then a delightful aroma wafted right next to Rune’s nose.

“Early solstice present from lover boy,” Brand explained. “Ridiculously expensive coffee tumblers that don’t leak and apparently block all scent. He said he bought them because they can survive a fall of ten feet without spilling and reportedly we’re prone to violent morning altercations. We get in one fucking fight in our boxers and the whole world never lets us live it down, I swear.”

Rune sat up and grabbed the tumbler. After a long, deep chug, he looked up at Brand.

“If I remember correctly, I was the only one in my boxers,” Rune said.

“Trust me, no one forgot seeing you fighting in your boxers. You were on the fucking news for a week.”

Rune covered his eyes with the hand that was not currently clutching his coffee. “Don’t remind me, please. Addam still won’t let me live down the smiley faces. What is it that has you waking me up so early? It’s Solstice break, for the River’s sake!”

“First, only the kids in school have a Solstice break. You are a fucking Arcana and your responsibilities don’t stop because it’s time to decorate with fucking poisonous plants. Second, we need to go hang the paintings before our children steal our attention for the rest of the day,” Brand said.

Rune smiled. “You called them our children.”

“And you’re still in bed. I’ll go grab the paintings; you get dressed and meet me in the Portrait Gallery.”

***

Rune looked around the long hallway that used to be Sun Estate’s Portrait Gallery. It was unnaturally silent and still in the morning light, the walls bare except for a few broken frames here and there. The paint altered colors where the frames used to sit, highlighting just how much Sun Estate had lost in its fall.

Rune reached out to touch an edge of what remained of a gold leaf frame hanging crooked on the wall. When they were kids, Brand and he had ridden their tricycles down this hall on Solstice morning, a gift from his father. _Brand’s father too,_ he amended. The only father Brand had ever known.

When he and Brand had been separated for schooling, Rune hand ended up spending hours in this hallway learning the history of his heritage. The frame he touched now had held a picture of his great grandfather Arnette. Rune had always been taken by the dichotomy of his stern face topped by kind eyes.

“Hey,” Brand said softly from behind him, having arrived silently. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Rune said, cleaning his throat. “Just memories. The ghosts of this place.”

“I know. We may have cleared out most of the ghosts of the physical kind, but I don’t think either of us were prepared for the ghosts of our own memories,” Brand agreed.

“They can be good though, right?” Rune asked with a rueful smile. “I mean, we had a lot of good memories in this place together.”

“The best,” Brand agreed. “And we have plenty of time to make new ones too. Come on, let’s get our family back up on this wall where they belong.”

Rune looked down to count the paintings in Brand’s hands. Ten.

“You brought all but Ciaran’s. I thought you knew the hall was reserved just for family portraits?” Rune inquired.

“Maybe not by blood, but the creators of these are all our family,” Brand stated.

A smile spread across Rune’s face so wide he thought his cheeks might fall off. “I knew you considered everyone court; I didn’t know you thought of them as our family too.”

“You picked them out, all I had to do was love them.”

***

Early evening had settled around Sun Estate before Addam made it back from his office. Running a business without partners and after having fallen out of favor of his mother’s political graces was taking its toll on him. Addam was doing his best to keep the strain from showing around Rune and his court. Rune was still struggling to find his footing as an Arcana and to make Sun Estate livable. The last thing he needed was Addam’s petty worries to distract him.

Addam parked in the estate’s detached garage and let out a long sigh as the car creaked and settled around him. _One, two, three,_ he counted in time with his breath, centering himself after the hard day. _It’ll get easier soon. It_ has _to get easier soon,_ he told himself as he got out of the car.

Brand intercepted Addam as soon as he walked into the foyer.

“Here,” Brand said, shoving a folder into Addam’s hands.

Addam looked down in confusion. “What’s this?”

“I know it isn’t my place,” Brand started, and if Addam didn’t know better, he would have thought Brand sounded almost hesitant, “but I could tell work has been hard without your partners. I reached out to a few contacts about potential new employees and these are the best of the bunch.”

Addam looked up in wonder.

“They’re not scions or anything,” Brand said with a shrug, his pale cheeks beginning to color, “but they’re good people. Smart too. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but...”

Brand trailed off and began looking anywhere but at Addam’s face.

“Thank you, Brandon,” Addam said with absolute sincerity, tears springing to his eyes.

“You’re good for him. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Always. I will do my best to keep you safe, too. Thank you, I mean it,” Addam replied.

“Don’t mention it,” Brand said gruffly. When Addam looked like he was about to do just that, Brand continued, “I mean it, don’t fucking mention it.”

With that, Brand stalked off to parts unknown and Addam was left holding both a folder in his hands and a warm light in his heart.

***

“Is it time?” Quinn asked Brand at the end of dinner.

“Time for what?” Brand asked.

“The reveal! You hung up our art today with Rune,” Quinn clarified.

Rune met Brand’s eyes and shrugged. “Now is as good a time as any.”

“After everyone helps clear the table,” Addam chimed in.

Quinn nodded and jumped to his feet, attempting to pull Max and Layne up with him. “Come on! It’s really, really beautiful; I can’t wait for you to see it. Help me clean everything up.”

Sun Estate’s kitchen had never been cleaned up faster by Rune’s estimation. All too soon, he and Brand were leading their court through the estate to the Portrait Gallery.

“Close your eyes, no peeking,” Rune ordered when they arrived.

Brand and Rune carefully lead everyone into the hallway, making sure they kept their eyes closed. Brand switched on the light.

“Ta-da! The Gallery awaits,” Rune said, sweeping his hand down the hallway.

The ten paintings, five on each side, took up a laughably small portion of the hallway. Turns out that a craft store amateur canvas was not nearly as large as the commissioned portraits that had once lined the hallway. The Misfit Court however treated it like the world’s greatest art exhibition, oohing and aahing over paintings that they had already seen the night before.

As they broke off into smaller groups to look, Brand walked up to Rune’s side. Sensing through the bond the inadequacy Rune felt about the space covered in the gallery, Brand spoke just loud enough for Rune to hear, “This is only the start, plenty of time to make more memories. By the time we’re through, they’re going to have to expand the Portrait Gallery all the way to the beach to fit them all.”

Max walked up to join them, anxiously knotting his fingers together. “You put my picture up,” he said. “It’s awful and got wet when Corbie spilled the water. You didn’t have to put it here.”

“Of course we did. You’re our brother,” Brand replied.

“Where else would we put it?” Rune continued.

Max started at them. After all these years, a lifetime of abandonment, being rejected by his grandmother, the _collar,_ how was it possible that he had finally found a place where he belonged so easily? Could a promise in exchange for a sigil really be all it took to find a family? He had nothing to give them, no skill that they could use, no power, no resources, but Rune and Brand were right in front of him staring at him like kin, like his parents and his grandmother and his uncle never had.

“Come here,” Brand said, reaching out.

Max bridged the gap between them and wrapped both men into the tightest hug he could muster. “I love you,” he whispered.

Further down the Gallery, Quinn and Addam were looking at the last two paintings. 

“See, Rune hung your picture next to his,” Quinn whispered to Addam, pointing to the penguin and gingerbread couples side by side. “That means it’s forever.”

Layne, Anna, and Corbie were standing close to each other, all looking at the five paintings on the opposite wall. 

“Wait, isn’t the Portrait Gallery meant only for House Sun family?” Layne asked tentatively. “Why are our pictures here?”

“You _are_ family,” Rune answered. Looking at the broader group, he clarified, “You all are.”

Layne gripped Corbie and Anna’s hands as the trio looked at their paintings hung on the wall next to Brand and Max’s.

“Welcome home,” Layne whispered to them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sun Estate’s laundry room is a mess and this is the hill I will die on. Will it be a theme in all my fics until KD confirms otherwise? Probably. Someone ask Quinn to opine. 
> 
> If you want to paint what the Misfit Court did, all of these canvas kits are actually available at the American craft store Michael’s.


End file.
